Chapter 77

There’s a saying that even if there are several graves, they’re not enough for those who curse others… Who said that again?

She was just given a glance, yet somehow she picked up on the intent behind it and responded with quiet laughter.

In this darkness, her two eyes, tinged with yellow light, faintly but unmistakably stood out in presence compared to everything else.

Her azure skin contrasted sharply with her pale white upper garment which, aside from revealing a bit of her neck and collarbone, mostly kept her flesh covered.

Her lower garments extended down to just above her knees but were split on the side, exposing her legs when she sat cross-legged, displaying her toned legs without reserve.

Even just the difference in skin tone alone created an incredibly strange impression…

“…”

Cariel calmly pulled away from the candlelight and leaned back into the wooden chair, neither questioning nor reproaching, nor expressing any negative or uncomfortable emotions.

“Though you might feel a little bewildered by remarks that seem to negate prior acquaintances, rest assured, this is purely well-intentioned.”

“…”

Look at that. Even without speaking, she’s already giving the answer you want, isn’t she?

Setting aside the content for a moment, the way it flows so smoothly makes it quite refreshing.

But once we get back to the actual content, the mood darkens again.

Still, in the end, there’s no avoiding asking.

I looked directly at her and asked.

“If I ask like this, would it count as Sila? But why do you offer such kindness? Would you mind explaining?”

“I value connections deeply.”

It was a slightly off-topic response, but in its own way, quite fitting.

“Isn’t giving before receiving, then reaping the rewards later, the key to farming, business, trust, and achievements alike? That’s why.”

“…”

“To our guest, forming bonds through physical means seems difficult. While that might be the most satisfying path for both parties… from the start, I had a clear sense about you.”

She smiled faintly in the shadows.

Despite her sharp features, her overall demeanor softened due to her smile, friendly attitude, and soothing voice.

However, if one disregards these elements and examines her with preconceived notions…

Even her cheerful expression and gentle eye-smiles transform into something sharper, almost disdainful.

Add in her different skin color and horned head, and even without outright fear or hatred towards demons, one can’t help but instinctively shrink back.

If someone didn’t notice such impressions, it must mean she made great efforts to avoid appearing that way.

From the moment she caught my gaze, she skillfully directed attention with her smile, attitude, and voluptuous figure.

Then, she followed up with sincere compliments and friendly words to establish familiarity — social skills Cariel herself lacks.

Perhaps more than anything, these tactics reflect the survival methods Cariel painfully learned to avoid being despised or scorned.

Compared to those forced lessons, this approach is far more refined and effective.

Not that I’m making excuses for being male while she’s female.

After all, she clearly managed to win over even women who might have been predisposed to dislike her.

This wasn’t achieved overnight.

Over time, even initial resentment can transform into familiarity.

She…

As the weaker party, needed to gain goodwill to neutralize hostility and violence.

Thus, she likely honed her expertise in appealing to others’ favor.

Therefore…

Having tried similar approaches herself, Cariel quickly understood my nature and inclinations.

“At your age, brimming with youthful passion, your desires cool instantly when you look at me. It’s not something mere belief or resolve can explain. It’s primal instinct.”

She continued.

Which meant, if someone could suppress such primal urges…

“…I assumed you’d have some deep wounds. Hence, I decided against using physical temptation. So, how should I win your heart?”

“…”

It’s not difficult.

By investing steady time, fostering closeness, offering small benefits to establish need, and gradually making oneself familiar.

…Theoretically, Cariel knows all this.

None of it suits her, though.

Back when she was part of the system, she often identified insincere individuals approaching her based on such principles.

There were those who sought her status or backing, after all.

Until they eventually disappeared.

Luslan.

She went on to explain.

“You must show utmost sincerity and corresponding effort, preferably something immediately useful.”

“…Have you considered that this could also pose significant risks?”

Business-wise.

In this world, merely associating with someone can lead to death or murder.

Getting close to people sometimes comes with considerable danger.

“But there’s no risk-free venture in this world, right?”

And…

“Opportunities usually lie in dangerous places. Just like how things others avoid grant exclusive value.”

“…”

What her eyes conveyed was simple.

Ambition.

Desire.

Typically, that sort of thing.

If we had to pinpoint one fundamental aspect that defines demons as demons—something both demons and their adversaries agree on—it would be:

Desire.

Do the races of the Middle Realm lack desire?

No, that’s universal.

But how they handle desire…

Can they embrace and celebrate it?

Can they trample what they once revered without hesitation?

Do they view righteousness, benevolence, justice, and benevolent governance as vices, despising and rejecting them?

Can they prioritize greed and desire above all else?

“If your usefulness diminishes even slightly… those vampires will consume and discard you without a second thought.”

Just like they’d drain every last drop of blood from livestock or prey, then toss aside the skin and meat somewhere.

Perhaps Prince Fielbar is an exception, but his unwillingness doesn’t equate to loyalty. They’re accustomed to unjust treatment that strips away individual will.

“…You mean vampires can’t defy the will of their clan leader, their master?”

“It’s fortunate you understand. Yes, I’m not blaming Fielbar… but I want to emphasize that clan leaders or heads hold absolute sway that no member can defy. That’s why it’s so malicious. Even if someone approaches with good intentions, even if they overcome the vampire urge, if their master commands from afar? There’s no escaping that fate.”

Even if Fielbar values his friendship and loyalty to Cariel enough to risk his life…

If his clan leader decides otherwise, he might still rip out Cariel’s heart and tear into her neck with his own hands.

“And you shouldn’t try to understand them with short-lived human logic. They live long lives, focusing more on distant futures than immediate concerns. In a sense, they dwell in dream worlds, lacking strong attachments to reality.”

They don’t cling to seeds planted everywhere, nor do they obsess over them.

Living such long lifespans, they aren’t swayed much by instincts or impulsive emotions like humans.

“If you understand their nature, you can build more meaningful friendships.”

For example, don’t blindly expect or rely on them and get betrayed, or feel wronged if betrayal happens. That’s the gist.

“…Thank you for the advice.”

Cariel sincerely expressed gratitude.

“Yes. Let’s call it a day here. If only we had more time, perhaps we could exchange bodies, minds, and innermost thoughts wholeheartedly.”

“…”

She didn’t demand anything right away.

As she mentioned earlier, first offering grace voluntarily.

When she left the room, the Demon King watching silently licked his lips smoothly.

-Did you catch that?

“Yes.”

That final line wasn’t just a casual farewell.

If only we had more time…

Was there really a need to stress that repeatedly?

Or was it Luslan’s speech pattern?

Either way…

“…”

That statement could simply express her hopes or intentions.

Alternatively…

“…”

It might imply that such time won’t be available.

Of course, it could be an overinterpretation or assumption.

…But considering it wouldn’t hurt.

“A gesture of kindness. And possibly a test.”

One’s worth and utility must be cultivated by oneself.

Despite the apparent calm until now, suddenly the feeling of malice pressing from all sides became overwhelming.

Though my heart clenched involuntarily, I shook it off.

Ultimately, these fears and anxieties stem from within myself.

…Even if an invisible blade flies from somewhere to kill me.

That shouldn’t be a reason to tremble with fear and anxiety now.

===

Wandering between light sleep and deep slumber.

As dawn approached, the sun hadn’t risen yet, leaving the outside pitch black.

Only the crowing of roosters here and there signaled it was time to wake, prompting an unconscious awareness that led me to open my eyes.

Stepping out into the corridor, I occasionally spotted humans and otherworldly beings bustling about in the dimness.

Those I passed exchanged customary greetings in moderate tones as if it were obligatory.

Exiting the branch building, I climbed hills and stairs to reach the fourth tier of the village, nearly at the peak.

Surprisingly, a crowd had already gathered.

Though not as long as yesterday’s queue.

Most street vendors hadn’t started their businesses yet, making the area feel somewhat empty.

Standing in line appropriately, I enjoyed the refreshing breeze for a while.

As the sun began to rise slowly, this region with low humidity remains relatively pleasant despite high temperatures.

That is, compared to yesterday, it feels quite comfortable today.

Soon, I faced the sword embedded at an angle again.

Gripping the hilt as before, a barren wilderness-like world unfolded.

The original scene where the sword was first embedded.

Many came and tried desperately to pull it out, but…

It wouldn’t budge.

Before the town formed, this area was more like rolling hills, forests, and mountains.

As time passed, sandstorms eroded the landscape, causing the sword to lose its luster and develop cracks.

Even those who initially coveted it eventually gave up.

Still, amidst all this…

A boy persistently returned to face the sword.

His navy blue hair, nearly black, resembled an untamed beast’s mane, messy and wild.

His attire was shabby, yet the boy strained with all his might, trying to pull the sword out as if carrying some deep grievance.

His amber eyes gleamed with venomous determination, silently spewing hatred and anger.

But the sword remained unmoved.

Through countless attempts, dozens or even hundreds of tries…

It never budged.

Yet, the boy refused to give up.

Even as he grew up.

Even when his tattered clothes improved to resemble proper garments.

Even as his body developed muscles and scars.

He stubbornly clung to the sword.

Almost as if challenging someone to see who would give in first.

Eventually, crowds began gathering.

The town formed, and wandering merchants set up stalls using wood and tools.

Some, finding it bothersome, simply unfurled bundles on the streets to sell goods.

Gradually, people flowed in continuously.

So the boy, who visited daily, waited until nightfall and the deepening darkness before returning to face the sword as usual.

Still, the sword ignored him completely.

Considering the sincerity and earnestness shown, one might expect at least some reaction.

But it was utterly meaningless hope.

Like expecting rain or snow solely through emotional appeals.

Truly meaningless hope.

Then, does this require waiting for the right time?

When will this sword be drawn? When will that moment come?

Suddenly, an elderly man with white hair spoke to the young man gripping the sword.

“Venus. I’ve told you many times, this isn’t yours.”

Of course, the young man paid no heed.

His tightly shut lips and squinted eyes focused solely on the embedded sword.

“The owner is someone else.”

But perhaps that statement struck a nerve.

The youth glared fiercely at the older man, teeth gritted.

“Just kill that guy, and it’ll be fine, right? Then it’ll readily become mine.”

“…”

“Answer me. Rupert. Am I right or wrong?”

The pale, milky eyes of the older man, reminiscent of a snake’s, offered no reply.

Only…

He watched the youth with a mix of pity and emptiness.

And…

As the youth attempted to draw the sword as usual,

And as many others observed,

There was a young girl.

Somewhere along the way, among some flower shops, she quietly set up a small stall.

Leaning on a cane and limping,

She patiently stood guard like a mourning stone, seemingly unbothered by the monotony.

The girl with sky-blue hair.

Her melancholic, sorrow-filled eyes.

Yet beneath them, an ever-present anxiety weighed heavily on her chest.

As if a devout monk praying, she silently watched many attempt the futile act of drawing the sword.

Ludines.

Her eyes continually whispered.

Please, let it not be drawn.

Please, let it remain undisturbed.

She fervently prayed for that alone.

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